Assassin's Creed: Before Time
by Mystic Magician885
Summary: Altair as a young man, being indoctrinated into the Brotherhood. First learning experiences and kills. Rated M for language and violence.


I do not own Assassin's Creed or associated characters.

**AN: I love this game and it's sequels and I apologize for any butchering I do with my story. I decided to write a prequel of sorts, but not necessarily following the plot of the game. I was too lazy to investigate names and places and history and everything else that would go into one of my stories, so please forgive me that as well. It's just fiction, anyways. Please enjoy!**

Chapter 1: A Lesson in Respect

Altaïr felt, rather than seeing, the people flow around him. A strange sensation, like swimming in a river and feeling the water rush around you. A very useful sensation. Especially for a young thief in a town full of Assassins.

He shook his head. Losing focus would be deadly at this point. His object of interest was stepping away from the market stall, unsatisfied with the wares the owner was trying to sell her. A pretty woman with flowing black hair and a soft, pale face. She definitely had money. Easily noticed by her fancy clothes and personal bodyguard. The man towered over the petite woman, shadowing her like a wolf stalking prey. He was one reason Altaïr hadn't completed this job yet. The other seemed to be faulty information.

The man who had hired Altaïr, Muljun, had promised him a whole silver noble to lift the woman's bracelet. Not just any of her bracelets, but her favorite one. The one she never seemed to take off. Muljun had also provided information to the fact the she took it off frequently. Altaïr's stomach rumbling reminded him of the three days he had been waiting for her to take the bracelet off. Even with the wrong information, he couldn't go back to Muljun empty handed, that would be a death sentence. Physically and reputation wise. His reputation is what landed him jobs and what little money he made to eat.

He supposed that he could demand more money for his work, as he was known as the best in Masyaf, but he did not possess the growth of a man yet. Soon, if he managed to keep feeding himself. But at the young age of twelve, he didn't have any prospects, other than stealing.

A fleeting thought of keeping the bracelet and selling it by himself, ran through his mind. He quickly discarded any notion of keeping what he stole. Muljun had many resources, and a couple gold nobles wouldn't be worth Altaïr's life once the criminal caught up with him. So, he had to be satisfied with the lesser payment.

He shook his head again. A silver noble was nothing to scoff at. It would feed him for a month at least.

Feeling a sharp spike in the flow had him cursing, then trying to appear nonchalant. A guard walked slowly by, eyeing Altaïr menacingly. The guards knew him for a thief, but the last time they caught him was when his was half his size now. Not able to punish a child so severely, they had let him go with a stern admonishment to respect other people's things. He wanted to ask them how he was supposed to feed himself then. It would've only earned him a cuff to the head, so he had kept his silence and learned from his mistake. He wasn't caught in his trade since.

Unfortunately for him, getting caught just following a person like the rich lady, would be enough for the guards to haul him away. Every theft in the town would be laid at his feet. While not completely true, they wouldn't be far off the mark either.

He muttered a prayer as the guard continued on by, with just a curt 'Stay out of trouble' as he passed. Altaïr had already lost half a day on his current job, due to a guard following him two days before. His eyes went wide as his prayer seemed to be answered. The woman was slipping her bracelet off as she headed away from the market district. Noting which pouch she secreted the jewelry in, he pushed off from the wall he had been slouching on and carefully made his way to the other side of the market. He knew the route she took to go home and had no fear of losing her while crossing through so many people.

A sliding step here, a gentle push there and a quick duck under a cart had him free of the hustle in mere moments. He grinned evilly as he spotted the woman without her guard strolling only a few hundred feet away. He had noted the first day how the bodyguard wasn't always around, leaving the woman unprotected for short periods of time. He must've ducked out for an errand of his own. Altaïr tasted the flow to see if he was nearby. The natural current was all he felt. The man was surely far away. His luck must've been used up on this one moment in time, for he knew with a certainty that he would never get another chance at completing this job. Another minute had him within fifteen feet of his target.

His plans never seemed to solidify until the actual moment of the theft, so formulating a strategy was useless for him. He would decide whether to pick out the bracelet, or lift the whole pouch at the instant his hand was on it. A cool rush of energy flowed through him as he got closer.

Ten feet.

Nine.

Eight.

Seven.

Six.

Five.

He stretched out his arms in wide swings so his hand could look more natural for the quick moment of his job. Four feet.

Three. The blood was pounding in his ear, forcing everything out of focus except the pouch.

Two, and with the next stride, he'd have food for a very long time. As his arm swung up to make contact with the pouch, an acrid, tangy _shift_ happened in the flow directly behind him.

_Thump! _It was too late of a warning as a sharp cuff to the side of his head sent him sprawling a good distance away.

Groaning heavily, Altaïr pushed himself onto his back. The blow to his head had his whole attention at the moment, causing great waves of pain pulsing throughout his being.

A shadow fell over him, blocking the sunlight. _This is it_, Altaïr thought to himself, _my last job, my last mistake. This world wasn't made for anyone to survive in, just for the strong to abuse the weak._ He opened his eyes as a hand closed around his throat.

"That's the last time you steal, _rat!_" his voice was raspy and mean, like his face. Altaïr stared in surprise at the bodyguards face in a deep white hood as blackness started to creep in from all sides. He cursed himself for a fool, as he felt the awesome power of an Assassin. The man wasn't trying to hide anymore, and the flow was being cut up all around him. Altaïr cursed himself even more, thinking he could be a thief in a town of Assassins. As the Assassin's evil smile filled up the last of Altaïr's fading vision, he cursed himself one last time for underestimating his enemy before all the light faded away.

* * *

><p>"Up, <em>boy!<em>" the voice sounded as if it had to travel through sand. Slowly, Altaïr's functions were coming back. A sharp blow to his side made everything crystal clear in a moment, allowing him to avoid another boot to his ribs. The roll away from the kick brought him to his knees, and then a moment later, he was on his feet, not wanting them to think he was bowing. Only the gray stone wall behind saved him from landing on his face. His head was swimming, making up seem down and vice versa.

Not letting his dizziness impede him, Altaïr took in his surroundings quickly. He was in a small cell, one he could cross in three steps any direction. The only light was faint flickering torchlight coming from outside the stout wooden door of the cell. There was an old man in fine black robes, golden inlay traversing the front, and a goon beside him in white. He couldn't see their faces well due to the weak light, but they both pulsed with power in the flow. The old man radiated twice as much power as the goon.

"At least you have some spirit left. I'm glad you're not senseless after Abheed subdued you. I am Al Mualim, but you will address me as master. Tonight, before anything else, you will learn the Three Tenants. What comes after, we will see," the old man spoke as if everyone in the room would do exactly as he said. Altaïr knew who he was, the Grandmaster of the Assassin Brotherhood. He also knew where he was, in the fortress on top of the mountain. He knew one last thing. He didn't have a choice.

"As you say, master," Altaïr heard his voice say, hating every fiber of his being for doing so.

_I do what I must to survive, as I have always done._

Al Mualim snorted, eyeing him like the untrustworthy urchin he was. "That will do for now. I will tell you the Three Tenants and then Yusaf here will make sure you can repeat every word back perfectly before you sleep. Do you understand your place right now?"

"Yes, master," Altaïr replied, grinning inwardly at his small victory. At that moment, he committed himself to never addressing Al Mualim correctly as _Master_. A small, boyish victory indeed.

Another snort from the old man let him know that his trespass did not go unnoticed.

"Repeat after me, _boy,"_ Al Mualim almost sneered.

"My name is Altaïr, not _boy_," he said, putting the same inflection on boy as Al Mualim did.

"Your name will be Pig Shit if I say so! _Boy!_" Al Mualim's eyes grew big and blood shot.

Altaïr wisely said nothing in retort.

The old man took a few calming breaths and muttered what seemed like 'You're going to be the death of me, _boy_.'

"Repeat: Stay your blade from the flesh of an innocent."

Altaïr parroted the words perfectly. His mind was not dull. A stupid thief was a dead thief. _So was a careless thief_, he admonished himself.

"Repeat: Hide in plain sight."

Again, Altaïr repeated the words.

"Repeat: Never compromise the Brotherhood."

A burning anger grew in his chest as the words left his mouth. It felt like a big joke and he was the only one not understanding.

"Now one piece of advice, one you don't need to repeat, but think on. Nothing is true; everything is permitted." Without another word, Al Mualim spun on the spot and departed with Yusaf, closing the door behind them. A loud click confirmed his suspicion of the room being a cell. He guessed he had repeated the words well enough that Yusaf didn't have to stay behind.

As the torchlight faded, Altaïr felt around his little room. His only findings were a coarse wool blanket, and surprisingly, a straw filled pallet on the floor. Quickly making use of them, he sighed in contentment, enjoying the softness of the pallet. Ignoring the gnawing hunger pains, he let his weariness pull him into a dreamless slumber.


End file.
